The 40 Best Character-Driven Shows to Watch Now

This World Can’t Tear Me Down is a timely release on friendship, punk, and anti-fascism. From the Italian cartoonist Zerocalcare, his second Netflix show shifts his musings over mental health to his experiences with regard to the country’s rising neo-Nazism. As xenophobia tears his friend group, it’s easy to feel the fear and self-doubt Zero’s cartoon counterpart feels. It’s easy as well to empathize with Sarah and Cesare, characters failed by the system around them. In many ways, they themselves feel like they haven’t met their potential. But the show suggests that perhaps status and achievement aren’t what being successful is all about– it’s about holding onto principles. Through punk soundtracks and shifts between stop motion and 90s cartoon style, This World Can’t Tear Me Down captures the millennial generation’s bewilderment, as well as their hope.

Dickinson takes more than a few creative liberties in telling the story of one of America’s greatest poets, Emily Dickinson (played here by the effervescent Hailee Steinfeld). As soon as the first pop song blasts in the background, followed by more than a few expletives blurted by the characters, it becomes clear that the series is more interested in making Emily’s life story not just understandable to a new generation, but timeless and universal too; it’s a tale about freeing oneself from the constraints of gender and society, and how regardless of whether you succeed or not, it’s the attempts that keep us human. 

The series is funny and tender and vivacious, kept afloat by its modern sensibility and desire to showcase a whole new side of Emily. Here, she’s a fighter, a (queer) lover, and an intellectual. But she’s also spoiled, narrowminded, and selfish—she is after all, still a growing girl. Dickinson succeeds on two counts: as an enlightening biopic, artistic license notwithstanding, and as an energizing coming-of-age series, complete with awkward epiphanies and inspiring character developments. 

After struggling to recapture the magic of the first few Star Trek series for the better part of two decades, the franchise has finally returned to its original formula of self-contained space adventures, progressive politics, and an unabashedly hopeful tone—all to magnificent results. Strange New Worlds is classic Trek in every sense: from its truly out-there, ’60s-style sci-fi stories; to its warm sense of humor; to its welcome focus on sentiment and emotion even amid large battles and dangerous situations. The series accomplishes all of this while keeping every member of its crew unique and charismatic, crafting powerful character moments for them even in the thick of things—elevated by uniformly brilliant performances from its cast, led by a commanding Anson Mount. It’s Star Trek for old and new fans alike, and a great reminder of the distinct strengths of episodic TV.

Based on the DC Vertigo comic, Bodies is an intriguing crime thriller with a unique twist – one body, in four separate time periods, being solved simultaneously all at once. While the show is triggered by the same body, the mini-series feels like four separate shows at the same time, marrying the classic Victorian detective mystery, war-torn film noir, and modern day police procedural through post-apocalyptic science fiction. And the four separate detectives take the helm of their respective side of the case, as well as how they deal with the discrimination against them. With four excellent strands to the same mystery, Bodies is an exceptional adaptation that demonstrates how even though details change, some things still remain the same.

That The Curse is squirm-inducingly awkward won’t be news to anyone who’s watched a Nathan Fielder show before, but TV’s king of cringe digs his heels in on that approach here. The Curse chronicles the making of another show: HGTV’s inelegantly named “Flipanthropy,” which follows Fielder’s Asher and wife Whitney Siegel (Emma Stone) as they perform (the operative word) good deeds in a struggling New Mexico town. Flipanthropy is also a means through which the well-to-do white couple can shill the eco-friendly homes they’re gentrifying the town with — a galling conflict of interest that plays as a running satire of TV. 

The uneasy tension between what the Siegels say they want to do versus what they actually do is the heart of the show. In true Fielder fashion, their hypocrisy is revealed through excruciatingly awkward, tortuously long scenes takes, such as the one that gives the show its title (the socially inept Asher angers a little girl, who puts a curse on him). This scene is also an example of the insane left takes The Curse constantly takes, which speak to Fielder’s ability to make his shows feel like they’re falling apart all while building to towering complexity. Suffice it to say, there’s nothing else like this on TV.

If all live-action superhero media stopped here, it would’ve been a triumphant conclusion. Carving its own path from the subversive Alan Moore classic and still so much gutsier than most superhero films and TV shows, Damon Lindelof’s Watchmen miniseries continues interrogating the idea of powerful masked vigilantes to explore institutionalized racism, America’s history of anti-Black violence, and even the phenomenon of white supremacy in “nerd culture” fandom. It’s an incendiary take on a genre that’s all-too-often reduced to mindless fantasy action, and it never tries to beat other properties at their own game—relying on constantly building intrigue and fantastic characters to tell its story.

But even if you’re not familiar with the original Watchmen story, the series should have enough style and intricate plotting for everybody. A pulsating musical score from Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross; gritty (but not flavorless) art direction; and powerful performances from Regina King, Tim Blake Nelson, and Jean Smart, among others complete this vision of a nation plunged into chaos due to collective unresolved trauma. All this makes for viewing that’s never difficult, but demands trust and attention even as the story branches off to places that seem at odds with itself. How often can you say that about a superhero story these days?

Watching the trailers, and even the first ten minutes, Scott Pilgrim Takes Off just seems like a rehash of the prominent Edgar Wright film, especially since his cast reprise their roles in this new anime. However, when that episode ends, even the most ardent fans of both the film and the original comic book series would have no idea where this would go. It’s a fearless, daring approach, from the original creator Bryan Lee O’Malley, and it’s met with the wackiest, spectacular animation from Japanese animation studio Science SARU, remixing O’Malley’s designs with 8-bit, fighting video game action.

Taking the violence and offbeat comedy of the original movie and adding constantly expanding narratives on top of it, Noah Hawley’s TV adaptation of Fargo arguably becomes an even richer portrait of the dark side of human nature hiding inside modern, polite society. All four complete seasons of the anthology series (with a fifth currently ongoing at the time of this writing) are an exercise in seeing how many dominoes can topple from a series of mismanaged coincidences. The resulting chaos then becomes more of a reflection on the kind of facades these characters would rather maintain for the sake of some semblance of control.

And perhaps with the exception of the show’s ambitious but sluggish fourth season, every Fargo story is dripping in suspense and cinematic polish, with plenty of chilling visuals and intricate music and sound design—not to mention ensemble casts who are almost always at the height of their powers. Each season has at least one stand-out, be it Alison Tolman and Billy Bob Thornton in season one, Carrie Coon and David Thewlis in season three, Ben Whishaw in season four, and practically everybody from season two. These are all actors who understand exactly how to inhabit the world Hawley has deepened, through wry humor and surprising pathos.

From a short pilot episode in October 2019, Hazbin Hotel has finally opened its doors for the small screen four years later. With the hellish premise and raunchy humor, it was surprising that A24 would choose this weird show from indie animator VivziePop as its first dip into animation, but with its release on Prime Video, it was totally the right choice. Reimagining the underworld as a red, white, and black urban, well, hellscape, Hazbin Hotel has such a bizarre mix of excellently handled mature themes, musical earnestness, and raunchy humor that just hasn’t been seen before.

In just eight episodes, this densely packed miniseries manages to be a beautifully told queer romance, a riveting political thriller, and an important snapshot of 20th-century America. It’s nothing short of an epic. Matt Bomer and Jonathan Bailey effortlessly carry the series on their backs. Their chemistry is undeniable, but they shine just as well in their political scenes. McCarthyism and the Lavander Scare in the ‘50s, the rampant protests in the ‘60s, the carefree parties of the ‘70s, and finally the AIDs crisis in the ‘80s, where present-day Hawk and Tim live in—all are consistently compelling thanks to the actor’s powerful, decades-spanning performances and showrunner ​​Daniel Minahan’s stable direction. The end may be (unsurprisingly) tragic, but it’s nonetheless moving because of the strong storytelling that preceded it.